


Death and other Unfortunate Omens

by CaptainGrace32



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other, POV Female Character, POV Male Character, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 17:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainGrace32/pseuds/CaptainGrace32
Summary: A collection of one-shots about the past, present, and future of the members of Tyria's Atonement.





	1. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was suppose to be an easy mission. Get the Ash legion spy out of the Flame Legion camp and go, but even the best laid plans of skritt and men often go awry. Atria had not planned for an ambush and now her and the rest of her warband were paying for the oversight.
> 
> (W/W if you look for it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story includes Steele Sparksbane (ash legion elementalist) and the wayward Steel warband of the Iron Legion. The story takes place about ten years before the events of the personal story.

_...May Iron build high, may Blood strike strong, in the shadows Ash hide not waiting for long…_

Atria had not heard the song since she was a cub. Another wet smack sounded through the camp, followed by a cough, more whacks, and soft melodic laughter over frustrated grunts. She couldn’t stand to hear the laughter anymore. Since they took her eyes on the first day all she had was sound.

._..Many will fall, to flames they will seek, but never again shall the legions bend knee…_

Another smack, this time something snapped. She heard Tyberius stiffen and curl in on himself. He was not built for this. Smodur’s eye! Her warband was not built for this! Half of them gone the first day to the sick fanatic’s “games” and now all that were left were her, Tyberius, Dinky, and Clawspur. Oh and the scorched ash-trash that kept SINGING! Well she really shouldn’t call her trash, Clawspur told her the magic user had saved Ty’s life when the flame rats cut off his tail earlier that day.

The flame legion guards had wanted him to dance, do a little jig while they ate. Ty was too proud and refused. His mistake, they took his tail and his pride with it. Had the spy not snuck over and cauterized the wound, he’d be dead. Perhaps he’d be better off that way. Atria shook the dark thoughts away, if Ty died she might as well be dead. Nihilism was not going to save them.

_...For their gods are fake and their power is gone. They only strike fear in the minds of the young…_

Again the rat-tailed cowards struck the spy. Again she laughed it off. The elementalist had been there longer than any of them and Atria had only heard stories about the cruelty the flame legion could inflict...perhaps the shadow had lost her mind? No, the Ash Legion trained their spies well. Still she wondered what kept the spy going.

A final gurgle, the beating had stopped. She could hear their captors talking in a low voice as they dragged the broken charr back. A loud creak of what must be their cage door as it opened and a grunt. Atria was surprised by the sudden weight of the female charr thrusted upon her. The gate slammed shut and the footfalls and chatter slowly teetered off into the distance. The charr in her lap was wet with what Atria could only assume was blood. She could tell by the slight flicker of the female’s tail against her side that the charr had only pretended to pass out. Kalla’s tits, she wasn’t half bad...for ash. She should ask the spy how the Ash legion trained to to play dead.

“sorry…”

The word was nearly inaudible against her lap, which was now, given it’s dampness, most likely covered in the ash’s blood. Silence filled the cage only to occasionally be broken by the cheers and laughter of their jailers, enjoying a meal by the smell of it, and Ty’s labored breaths. She shuddered at the thought of the pain that the charr must be going through, the removal of the appendage had been very slow if his screams were any indication of the process. He would have to pass out sooner or later, he needed the rest. But Atria didn’t have the energy to play primus at the moment.

Maybe she too would pass out if she were lucky, sleep had become hard since she could no longer tell the days from the nights. When slumber did take her the visions of her dead warband member’s demanded she seek vengeance. There was no comfort in this cage. They would not last much longer.

The warm body on her lap reminded her of simpler nights in the fahrar when they use to sleep huddled in a pile of blankets and pillows, drunk off their excitement for their warband’s future glory. What fools they were. There was no glory waiting for them out in the big world, only monsters scarier than any bedtime story.

The weight shifted as the spy rolled off of her, a soft chuckle rose from the ash leigoneer’s lips. If Atria had eyes she’d glare, but such motions caused the wounds in her empty sockets to ache. So instead the guardian remained motionless and emotionless, it was her best defense.

“...you’ll all live.” The words dribbled out of the elementalist, hardly above a whisper, punctuated by a sharp cough.

She almost didn’t recognize her own voice, parched from lack of water and hoarse from all the screaming she had done on their first day in captivity, “What makes you so sure, Ash trash?”

It was HER fault they were here after all. This was supposed to be a simple extraction, get the spy and go. But somehow the spy had blown her cover and they were ambushed at the rendezvous site. It was HER fault she was blind. It was HER fault Ty was permanently crippled. It was HER fault her entire warband was either dead or dying. The spy deserved everything she got and more as far as Atria was concerned. And now here that same spy was, after nearly getting beaten to death, trying to give her a pep talk. Ridiculous!

The harshness of Atria’s tone had little to no effect the dame, “...you’re not prey.”

The female charr used the same patronizing tone Atria’s primus had used with her warband during their lectures. It infuriated Atria.

“You bet your blood soaked ass I’m not.”

The spy chuckled again, pushed herself up on her knees, and placed her hand on Atria’s shoulder to steady herself. Atria tensed at the contact, but the hand was surprisingly warm and compared to the cold night air, the touch was almost welcomed. If not for her discipline and rage Atria would have leaned into the touch.

She could hear the grin in the dame’s voice, “that fire will serve you well. Use it to rally your warband, they need your strength.”

The spy emphasized the point by moving the hand over Atria’s heart, she could feel the shadow’s breath against her whiskers, and the drops of blood falling from her body onto Atria’s lap. It made Atria shudder. At that moment her rage had completely subsided and a more primal urge emerged. In another life the evening would have proceeded down a very different path. However, since the charr were stuck in a cage occupied by her bandmates, on the outskirts of a flame legion camp, and both were injured within an inch of their lives, such liaisons were ill-advised. The spy instead nestled against the Iron legionnaire’s side and kept her hand against the guardian’s chest, the perceived slights forgotten for the moment.

._..May Iron build high, may Blood strike strong, in the shadows Ash hide not waiting for long…_

She could feel the song reverberating through the spy’s throat pressed against her chest. As if summoned, Atria shifted as the full weight of Tyberius pressed into her other side; his nonsensical mutterings a clear indication he had finally passed out. A slight distance away she could hear Clawspur’s even breaths and Dinky’s snoring. It was just like when they were cubs. Her own body felt sluggish, perhaps the nightmares would leave her alone this time.

Tomorrow they would think their way out of this.

They would not be prey.


	2. Ace of Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane Rus is many things, a capable necromancer, a published expert on dragons, and a beloved noble of Divinity's Reach. However, he is not a mind reader. Why Steward Glixx would try forcing the Pact Commander's aide-de-camp on him was beyond him., but he was not going to allow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kane's first story. Takes place after Zhaitan's death and before Living Season !

Gixx was trying to get a rise out of him. That was the only acceptable explanation for the Steward’s actions. He knew he shouldn’t have pointed out that grammatical error in The Great Golem Uprising of 1284: A Commentary, but it was so obvious! Grenth’s tits! It wasn’t his fault all of his previous protégées had been too afraid to correct him. Yet here Gixx was, punishing him.

“…she’s come with exceptional references. A personal commendation by the Marshal and the Commander. By the Eternal Alchemy, if it was not for the death of Sieran she would have been a magister by now! Either way she…”

The steward was still going on about her. He knew Solonarae. He knew she smelled like spring and her laugh made his Shadow smile, and his Shadow smiled for no one. He knew with a touch she had half of the ministers eating out of the palm of her hand. He knew if she had been born a human she would have already been crowned the queen. He knew she probably had a dozen men vying for her…

His Shadow nudged him lightly, breaking him from his train of thought. The norn gave him a slight nod towards the Steward, who had clearly just asked him a question.

“Well Magister Kane?” The asura growled with arms crossed. 

“No.” He would not have her on his crew. She would distract him and he needed all of his concentration and fortitude to study the dragons. Balthazar’s balls! How was the pact supposed to kill the dragons if he did not discover their weaknesses?

“No? You better have a damn good reason you infantile intransigent!” Gixx’s frown grew inconceivably deeper.

Now he had done it! He looked to his Shadow for help, but Tyr merely shrugged. The norn made a fantastic bodyguard, but he was no adviser. Beyond the noble’s safety the norn could’ve given less of a damn. Kane was on his own.

“Sir, she’d be a distraction and a liability. My crew goes deep into dragon territory to study them. She’d get distracted by all the new exciting experiences.” He felt perverse for playing on the sylvari stereotype of being scatter-brained, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Gixx raised a brow, “Magister, I’ll remind you again that she was pivotal is defeating Zhaitan. Much of our knowledge on the dragon comes from her notes.”

Kane was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. So he pulled out all the stops “Sir, there is no way Mon and Mella will be able to get along with her. She’s too positive. They will tear her apart with their cynicism.” 

Gixx actually rolled his eyes at this objection, “Kane, my patience is growing very thin. She will be reporting in tomorrow to be debriefed. After which you will introduce her to your crew and make her feel welcome. And by whatever primitive gods you pray to, if you so much breathe a complaint to anyone within this monastery, I will have you back in the library so fast you’ll wish you would have died at Claw Island!” 

Kane studied his boots as the steward stomped off. This had nothing to do with him or Solanarae. Gixx was rectifying his mistakes with Sieran.

“So is this the raven-spirited sylvari or the wolf-spirited one from the Queen’s Jubilee?” Tyr once again pulled the necromancer from his darkening thoughts.

“The one that glowed like the sun, Tyr. Solonarae.” Kane sighed as if he had just lost the Guild Wars single-handedly.

“So the wolf-spirited one then? Good, you need more steel in the crew.” Tyr nodded, his face breaking into a slight grin.

Well Kane couldn’t argue with that. They needed someone who could take a hit and the guardian would bring some much-needed levity to the crew. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. She couldn’t be nearly as charming all the time, right? He’d have to pull some readings for the sylvari to get her caught up on their research. She’d also need to have a formal meeting with the rest of the crew before they went on their next research excursion. There was much to do. His Shadow fell into step behind Kane as the human rushed to his quarters. There was work to do. 


	3. The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solonarae knew better, she knew the moment she set foot on the airship something was horribly wrong. It was in the air, a subtle voice in the wind that made her leaves stand on end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place just after the failed Pact attack against Mordremoth

The Maguma jungle had to be the most miserable place in all of Tyria. Sure the Grove was humid too, but not like this. This was unrelenting heat and humidity; this was her punishment. Fuck the Pale Tree. This place was wrong. The sounds were wrong, the air tasted wrong, even the plants seemed to glare at her. They probably were anyway, knowing  _ him _ . Sol could have sworn the last time she felt truly dry was long before that damned advance. Even without her sheet metal and chain mail, her clothes still stuck to her like a second skin. 

_ Give in… _

It hurt like a bitch. She could literally feel the foreign vines tangling in her insides, pushing and stretching, attaching themselves to whatever they could. It was spreading.

“Grenth take you,” her companion cursed under his breath. 

She almost chuckled. Kane was capable of many things. Advising the queen? Done. Raising the dead? In his sleep. Starting a fire from scratch? Nope. Of all of the crew of  _ Tyria’s Atonement  _ and she got stuck with the noble, how fitting.

_ Stab him… _

The necromancer must have been getting agitated, little bone and flesh creatures were beginning to form around him. They could do little to help their master though. With a heavy sigh and a few steps he plopped down by her side. 

“We were damned from the start, weren’t we?” 

He was waiting for a silver lining from her. That was her job, she hit things with a sword and she made everyone smile. Only she didn’t feel like smiling.

_ He is damned. You could save yourself my child… _

“Everyone’s damned Kane, we are just a little further along the line.” 

Now he was watching her intently. He was analyzing her like he did when they played chess or when they spared. 

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

He reached to touch  _ the spot _ , but she batted his hand away. Even without the contact she could feel the blossom protest at the attempted intrusion. The vines dug deeper. She couldn’t hold back the grimace.

_ Just give in… _

“It’s…none of your concern” she could barely get the words out. Sol rubbed the inflamed skin, where her neck met her back. The blossom rebuffed her attempt to sooth it and further rooted itself within her. She could feel the vines inside her, radiating from the back of her neck through her shoulder blades and around her face. 

_ You cannot escape…. _

She knew that look; he had the same look every time he sent one of the crew out on a solo mission. His fingers lifted instead to brush against her pulsating cheek. His lips opened, preparing no doubt to chastise her for trying to hide the pain. However, he pursed his lips instead, allowing his thumb to rest against her cheekbone. 

“You worry too much. I’ve faced worse.”  _ It will kill me _ . She finished in her head. Her resolve seemed to placate him and he went back to work on the fire. His minions were now collecting bits of wood and kindling. 

_ I will win this war… _

She couldn’t let  _ him _ win.  _ He _ had already taken enough.  _ He _ was using her. She knew what the blossom was for, why  _ he _ had allowed them to escape from the wreckage. She could feel the roots getting closer to her eyes; once they seized those there would be no hiding from  _ him.  _

She eyed Kane’s dagger. She might not be able to remove the weed. But she could make the ground it grew on less enticing. She regarded Kane for one last time. He was still fussing over the stack of twigs, far too engrossed to pay attention to his surroundings. He would never forgive himself, but neither would she if she allowed  _ him _ to win.

_ You wouldn’t dare! You’d be useless! A cripple! _

Her fingers enclosed around the dagger’s hilt. Of all the decisions she has made that led to this point, this was by far the easiest one. 

Better to be blind than in the service of a dragon. 

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting long time writing, wish me luck!


End file.
